


Third Time's the Charm

by BiteMeMarvelCanon



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:25:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiteMeMarvelCanon/pseuds/BiteMeMarvelCanon
Summary: Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter are perfect for each other.  The only problem is, they just can’t seem to meet.A modern Steggy AU in which Steve is a graphic designer, Peggy is a graduate student, and Bucky never gets to ride shotgun.





	1. Chapter 1

“Peggy? Is that spelled P-e-g-g-y?” the cashier asked as he started to write her name on the cup.

“Yes, that’s right,” she answered.

“I knew it. I’m on fire today with spelling things. Go ahead,” he said, “ask me to spell something. Anything.”

Peggy smiled. There was no one behind her in line; she supposed there was no harm in chatting with him a little. He was cute, tall with friendly blue eyes, and a shock of hair falling across his forehead.

She thought for a moment, “How about eudaemonic?”

“You-da what?” he repeated.

“Never mind,” she laughed.

“Well, now you’ve ruined my streak,” he said, shaking his head, but still smiling.

“Sorry about that,” she said as she started to walk further down the counter to wait where another employee was preparing her coffee.

“You forgot your gloves,” he said, picking them up off the counter and walking down to hand them to her.

“Oh, thank you, I don’t know where my head is today.” 

“These are nice; you wouldn’t want to lose them,” he said, looking at them as he handed them to her.

“Yes, I made them myself, actually,”, she said, tucking them into her bag.

“You’re very talented.”

“Thank you,” she said warmly.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before,” he continued. “Do you live close by?”

“No, actually I don’t live here at all. I’m just in town for a conference at the university.”

“Cappuccino for Peggy,” a young woman announced.

“You know,” he said, “I get off in a few minutes. If you’re not in a rush anywhere, I’d be happy to give you a few insider tips on the town.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ve got to get back to the conference,” picking up her cup. “And I’m flying out of town just as soon as it’s done.”

“Well, I guess it just wasn’t meant to be,” he said, putting his hand on his heart with a mock mournful face, which was quickly replaced by a carefree smile. “Hope you have a good trip home,” he said as he cheerfully waved at her and went to help the next customer.

Peggy headed out the door briskly and took a moment to orient herself. It had started snowing, and she pulled out her hat and put it on. The way back to campus should be on her right, so she set off decidedly in that direction, pulling out her phone to double check. She had only taken about ten steps when a man, walking just as briskly, approached from the other direction, then turned and headed into the coffee shop. He went right up to the counter to the cashier.

“What can I get for you, sir?” the cashier asked formally.

The man sighed. “Just a black coffee, please.”

“And your name?”

“Bucky, you know my name. We’ve known each other since we were five years old. Why do you put me through this every time I try to get a coffee?”

“Your name, sir?” Bucky repeated, undeterred.

“Steve.”

“And is that spelled with two s’s or one?” Bucky asked, his marker poised over the side of the cup.

“One,” Steve answered, resigned.

“Two e’s?”

“Yes.”

“And is that with a v?”

“Yes. How else would you spell Steve?”

“Like this,” Bucky said, showing him what he had written. In all capital letters, the cup read “STEEV.” Steve shook his head, and Bucky doubled over with laughter.

“You know what,” that’s fine, Steve said. “I’ll even spell my name like that from now on if you want, if I can just have my coffee.”

“Aw, c’mon. Let me have some fun. I just got shot down by a girl, and on Valentine’s Day of all days.” 

“Were you hitting on your customers again?” Steve asked.

“I don’t ‘hit on’ women. That makes it sound weird. There was a woman here from out of town, and I just offered to tell her a little about the area.”

“I’m sure she just wanted a coffee, not a tour guide.”

“How else am I supposed to meet someone? She was pretty, and smart. You would have liked her. Ruined my spelling streak, but I forgave her. I think we could have worked past that in the long run.”

“What did she ask you to spell?”

“You-da-mon something.”

“Eudaemonic?”

“What the hell, Steve, does everybody know that word but me?”

“It’s from the Greek, means producing happiness. Maybe you should open a book once in a while.”

“Maybe you should close one once in a while.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know. I’m heartbroken. I don’t know what I’m saying. I could have had a date tonight, but instead I have to spend Valentine’s Day with you and Sam Wilson.”

“We’re not so bad,” Steve offered.

“You’re not. Sam’s mean.”

“I think that what you’re trying to say is that he doesn’t put up with any of your antics.”

Steve walked to the end of the counter, waiting for his coffee.

“I almost forgot, I found this glove just outside the door,” Steve said, walking back towards Bucky. He held it up for him to see, but didn’t hand it to him just yet. Steve examined the stitching. “Maybe one of your customers dropped it. I suppose you should put it in the lost and found.”

“That’s funny,” Bucky said. “That belongs to the woman I was just talking about. She almost left her gloves on the counter before. She must have dropped it after she left.”

Steve turned the glove over in his hand, still looking at it.

The young woman at the coffee station slid the cup over to Steve unobtrusively, trying not to draw Bucky’s attention.

“Oh, no,” Bucky said, “You have to announce it.”

“Sorry,” the woman mouthed at Steve, pulling the cup back. “Black coffee for Steve,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Thank you,” Steve said sympathetically as took the coffee. 

Bucky walked the length of the counter to where Steve was standing. “Wait: are you sure that’s your coffee?” He asked, managing to keep a straight face.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Steve said, wondering if he should starting getting coffee at the other place down the street. 

“Did you check the spelling of your name?” Bucky asked, starting to laugh at his own joke again. 

“You’re lucky your family owns this place,” Steve observed, smiling in spite of himself. “And that the other employees have the patience of saints,” he added, nodding towards the woman who had made his coffee.

“Are you kidding? I’m an incredible boss,” he said, walking over to his coworker and putting his arm around her. “Aren’t I, Nat?”

“You’re an incredible something,” she answered, elbowing him in the ribs, then went back to work.

 

Steve chortled, handing Bucky the glove without further comment. 

“I can put it in the lost-and-found, but I don’t think she’ll be back for it. She said she was just in town for a conference and that she was flying out right after it.”

“She might call in for something like this. This looks like it was hand-knit with a lot of care, and it takes time to do this kind of color work. If she calls, you could mail it to her.”

“I always forget that your mom taught you to knit,” Bucky continued, as he tucked the glove away under the counter in the lost and found bin. “That reminds me—are you done with my socks yet?”

“Almost.”

“Hey, maybe it’s a sign,” Bucky added after a moment as he wiped the counter thoughtfully.

“Of what?” Steve asked.

“That I’ll meet her again.”

“Maybe,” Steve answered slowly, unconvinced. “What?”

“I know that look. You don’t think it could be a sign.”

“It’s just that—well, you talk in a, ahh, friendly way to a lot of women that come through here. It’s just maybe it’s hard to believe that this is special.”

“Well it is,” Bucky said, folding his arms.

“What was her name?” Steve asked.

“Penny,” he answered without hesitation.

“How many other women did you ask out today?”

Bucky silently counted on his fingers. “Uh, I’m not sure. But only the ones without wedding or engagement rings. I’m a man of honor.”

“Um hmm. I guess it’s fate, then,” he said, sipping his coffee. “Are you about ready to get going to the game?”

“As long as I can ride shotgun,” Bucky answered, taking off his apron and smiling with satisfaction. He had made sure that Steve would pick him up first so that he could sit in the front this time.

“Actually, Sam texted me an hour ago that he needs to ride in front. He said he tweaked his knee at the gym and needs room to stretch it out.”

“He could do that in the back seat.”

“Steve just shrugged in reply.

 

***

Two weeks had gone by, and every time Steve stopped by the coffee shop, he checked whether anyone had claimed the glove. It became part of his routine, like Bucky’s endless harassment. He didn’t know why it had stuck in his mind like that. After a month, he finally asked Bucky if he could hang on to it, leaving a note in the lost-and-found box that he should be contacted if the anyone called looking for it. He made up the excuse that he wanted to look at the way the knitting was done. Probably Bucky would forget about it as long as he didn’t mention it again.

It wasn’t really a lie, he reflected, because he didn’t really know what he was concealing. He didn’t really want to look at the knitting, but he didn’t know why he wanted to keep it. There was something that made him feel good when he held it in his hand. He just wanted to have it around for some reason.

As he sat in his office at home, he turned the glove over in his hand. He had a project deadline approaching, and usually he didn’t procrastinate, but he could take a break for just a few minutes.

The glove had fair isle pattern with six different colors. He had never made anything so complicated himself, and didn’t really have any ambition to. He knitted mostly because it was a connection to his mother. People were always impressed with intricate knitted lace patterns, but color work like this was very tricky. it wasn’t so much the patterning, but the fact that you had to carry the color you weren’t using along the back until it was needed again. The tricky part was keeping the right tension on both strands. He turned it inside out to examine the wrong side; it was almost as perfect as looking at the front. 

He wished he could give the glove back to its owner; it was a shame that someone had lost something that they had taken so much care with. Maybe that’s what was so appealing about it. It reminded him of people who put work into something just because it was beautiful, of people who cared about things.

He shook his head a little at the direction his thoughts had taken. He wasn’t usually so dramatic. He went back to work on his computer, tucking the glove away into the middle drawer of his desk.


	2. Chapter 2

Peggy’s conference had been an unqualified disaster. She and Daniel had not traveled well together, bickering the whole way there and the whole way back. Hardly anyone had shown up for her talk, and she had lost her favorite glove.

She tried to be philosophical about the glove. After all, she would have soon started another knitting project anyway; it was good for her nerves. So she should just pretend that this was her new project. Luckily, she had just enough yarn left over to make a third glove, although she swore it never fit quite as well.

In spite of her miserable experience on the trip, she had quite liked the small college town. One of the reasons that she had gone to the conference was to see what the university and town were like. She was generally satisfied with her own master’s program, but her interests had changed a little, and she needed to decide soon where she wanted to work on her Ph.D. 

She had been accepted into the program and was seriously considering it. The faculty’s specialties aligned better with her current interests, and they were appeared to be no more dysfunctional than most university faculties. The only remaining question was whether she was willing to commit to living there for the next five years or so. Her trip decided her in more ways than one. She wrote the new department shortly after returning home with her acceptance, and she and Daniel broke up soon after that.

It was a sweltering August day six months later when Peggy moved into her apartment in an old Victorian house near campus. On top of the heat, and hauling boxes, when she had finally thrown herself down on her sofa for a moment of rest and quiet, she heard a godawful noise coming from above. Whoever lived above her was making an unbelievable racket. It sounded like…tap dancing?

Peggy made her way up the stairs and knocked on her neighbor’s door. She really didn’t have the energy for a confrontation just now. Shortly after she knocked, she heard the unmistakable sound of the tap shoes crossing the floor.

A friendly-looking woman, about her age with curly dark-blond hair, smiled at her as she opened the door. 

“Hi, I’m your new downstairs neighbor, and—”

The woman looked suddenly horrified. “The tap dancing. Oh, I’m sorry. That apartment’s been empty all summer. I didn’t know anyone had moved in.”

“That’s ok,” Peggy said, relieved.

“Hey, come on in. I’m Angie. You want something to drink? You probably don’t have any groceries yet, right?”

“Yes, actually, some cold water would be great. I’m Peggy, by the way.”

“Have a seat,” Angie shooed her in toward the couch as she went to get the water.

“Is it always this hot here?” Peggy asked.

“Only in the summer. Don’t worry; in the winter you’ll be freezing,” she said cheerfully.

Peggy quickly downed the water that Angie brought her. “You’re probably starving, too,” Angie said. “I was just going to order some pizza. You want in?”

“That sounds great,” Peggy said, leaning back on the couch a little. 

“I’m thinking extra large, with everything. And I’ve got a six pack of beer. Let’s see which one gets us sick first.”

 

***

“There’s no way this is fitting in the back, man,” Sam said as he and Steve put the dresser back down on the ground. “The seat in this car is just too high, and the back door doesn’t open at enough of an angle.”

“Maybe I should just keep it,” Steve said. “There’s nothing really wrong with it.”

Bucky was leaning against the back of the car, his arms crossed. “You should get rid of it, Steve. You never get rid of anything. You’ve got too much furniture in there already, and you never use this. It’s just sitting around.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Steve admitted.

“Wait a minute,” Sam said, walking around to the front of the car, “I think it might fit if we move the front seat all the way back and put it up there.”

“But it’s my turn to ride in the front,” Bucky protested.

“It’s only until we take it out at the thrift shop,” Steve said encouragingly. “You can ride in the front from the thrift shop to the theater.”

“This is unbelievable! Even furniture gets to ride shotgun more than I do.”

With numerous protests and laments from Bucky, they dropped off the dresser and continued on to a movie. Halfway through it, Steve realized that he had forgotten to check if all of the drawers were empty. He had looked in the first two, and then Bucky had interrupted him with a video on his phone that he had to see right then, but then he had forgot to go back and finish what he was doing. It was probably nothing to worry about; the thrift shop would still be open after the movie and they could go and check it then. It would surely still be there.

 

***

Peggy felt extremely lucky to have found such a nice dresser at the thrift shop. She had been looking for a while, but they were hard to come by. Good furniture was always the first thing gone at garage sales. The dresser was old but well cared for. And it didn’t even have a weird smell. The person who had helped her with it had said it had only just come in that day. It looked very clean, but she still set about pulling out the drawers to wipe out before before putting her clothes in.

In the back of the bottom drawer, Peggy found a piece of paper in the back. Probably when the previous owner had cleaned it out, they hadn’t seen it. The drawing was in pencil, and had been carefully torn out of an artist’s notebook. It showed a small gazebo surrounded by tall trees and a walkway. She recognized it immediately; she walked by the little gazebo in the old part of campus almost every day. It was a charming spot. Behind it was an entirely wooded area, and the stone structure had beautiful panels of stained glass in the roof. 

There was something about the sketch that Peggy liked immediately, and something more about it that she came to love the longer she looked at it. The style of the drawing was simple and straightforward, but somehow it had captured the feeling that she had on that part of campus, the quiet stillness, empty of people but not lonely or melancholy. 

She kept the drawing in the drawer where she had found it and didn’t put anything else in there for a while. She didn’t want to leave it sitting out and take the chance that she would spill something on it or it would get damaged in some way. Finally, she measured it and went and bought a frame for it, and hung it over the dresser, so she could see it whenever she liked. She had never had an actual piece of art before on her walls, instead of just a poster reproduction. 

The drawing didn’t have a signature, but she was able to make out a very small pair of initials, hidden in the grass at the bottom right hand corner, “SR.” As she settled into her new town, whenever she went to a restaurant or cafe with paintings hanging up, she checked for the same initials. She couldn't afford real paintings, of course, but she would at least like to know who had done the drawing that she had come to love so much.


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re coming to the party tomorrow night, right?” Bucky asked.

“Do I have any choice?” Steve asked in return.

“No.”

“Why do you keep trying to set me up?”

“Because you’re in danger of becoming an old maid. Nat agrees with me. Don’t you, Nat?”

“You could get out a little more, Rogers,” Natasha said, as she handed him his coffee.

“I get out every weekend,” Steve protested.

“Going to church and dinner at my mother’s doesn’t count, Steve,” Bucky said.

“Look, I went on that double-date with you a couple weeks ago. And you know how that turned out. You promised you’d leave me alone after that.” 

“What happened?” Nat asked.

Steve hesitated, not given to complaining at length about things, or people.

“Go ahead, give her the whole story,” Bucky said, walking towards the other end of the counter to help a customer.

“So he drags me on this double date to the movies. We met the ladies there. We start to chat. I offer her some popcorn, and she turns up her nose at me and gives me this look, like I’m trying to poison her. She says she would never eat anything artificial like movie popcorn. I think, ok, maybe she’s a health nut, fine. She could have been nicer about it, but all right. After the movie the four of us walk over to a bar for a drink. The movie was a classic 40s film noir, a favorite of mine. I ask her how she liked it, and all she says is she only likes movies in color. Ok. We get to the bar, and I make at least a half-dozen other attempts at conversation. Art, the outdoors, current events. All non-starters. We have nothing in common. It was miserable.”

“That does sound pretty bad,” Nat agreed. “Where do you find these girls?” she asked, turning to Bucky.

“You know,” Bucky shrugged, “Around.”

“You must know somebody you could set him up with,” Nat.

“Well, maybe,” she said, thinking it over. “What are you looking for?”

“Someone with some substance to them as a person. A decent human being.”

“Hmm,” Natasha smiled. “That’s a tall order. I’ll keep my eyes out for someone like that.”

“Thanks,” Steve said. “Look, I’ve got to get going.”

“But you’ll be here tomorrow night, right?” Bucky persisted.

“Yes,” Steve said. “Oh, and your mother told me to tell you to come home for dinner on Sunday. And this time she expects to see you at mass in the morning, too.”

“Not the early service,” Bucky yelled to him, horrified, as Steve walked away.

“Yes, the early service,” Steve yelled back as he headed out the door. At least he wasn’t the only one who would be doing something they didn’t want to this weekend.

***

“I hate Valentine’s Day,” Angie said, with a dramatic sigh once they had settled at their table. ‘It’s not that I mind being single…” she continued.

Peggy looked at her skeptically, sipping her coffee. 

“Ok, it is that I mind being single. But what I mean is that I wouldn’t mind it if I knew when I wouldn’t be single anymore. Like if I could just get a signed certificate from God that I was going to meet someone in five years, I could enjoy the next five years just fine.”

Peggy smiled. “I think we’d all like a guarantee like that,” she agreed.

“That guy at the counter keeps looking over here,” Angie said.

Peggy glanced over. It took her a second to place him. “Oh, I was in here last year about this time. I was visiting for a conference and he offered to tell me about the town. I think he’s a huge flirt—he chatted up practically every woman who was in line ahead of me.”

Bucky knew he had seen that woman somewhere before, but he couldn’t remember where, and it was driving him crazy. When she looked over at him he decided to find out.

“Hey, I know you from somewhere,” he said, approaching Peggy and Angie’s table.

“Where?” Peggy asked.

“Hold on, I never forget a face. Were you the nurse that set my arm when I broke it last year?”

“No.”

“That’s a good story by the way. Had to have a cast on it for what seemed like years.”

Peggy nodded, but didn’t say anything. Bucky narrowed his eyes at her, concentrating.

“I’ve got it. Last month, at the grocery store. You were about to buy some plums, but I showed you where the organic ones were, and we got to talking…”

“Also no.”

“Wait, I know now,” he said, but he looked alarmed rather than satisfied. “You, ah, stayed over at my place a few months back. I’m sorry I haven't called, but you said you were only interested in a casual thing, and…”

“Absolutely not,” Peggy cut him off. Not wanting to hear any more about his love life, such as it was, she quickly added, “I bought a coffee here about a year ago.”

“Oh, of course, a coffee.”

“You don’t remember me.”

“I still remember your face. I’m just not that great with details. What else happened?”

“Let’s see. You were talking about how you could spell anything. I was visiting here and you offered to tell me about the area, an offer I politely declined,” Peggy said with emphasis, hoping to forestall any renewed attempts to ask her out.

“So are you visiting again?”

“No. I moved here for my graduate program. I’m working on a Ph.D.”

“Really,” Bucky said slowly, a new thought occurring to him. “That sounds…substantial.  
You must be pretty smart.”

Peggy just smiled. “I guess so.”

“And you knit, right?” he asked, obviously still thinking something through.

“Yes,” she said, puzzled that he remembered that, as well as at his strange manner.

“How do you feel about art? Like, real paintings and things?” 

“Um, I like it,” Peggy said, looking over at Angie to see if she thought this conversation was as strange as she did.

“How about old movies?

“I really enjoy them.” Peggy didn’t know why she was still answering this bizarre series of questions, but he seemed harmless, and she was curious what all of these things could possibly have in common. 

“You get carsick? Any knee trouble? Anything that would prevent you from sitting in the back seat of the car?”

“No.”

“Yeah. You’re perfect,” he said, nodding his head a few times.

“Look, you seem very nice, but I’m not interested in going out with anyone just now.”

“Oh, no, no, no. Not me. I was just wondering…I think you might be perfect for friend of mine.” Before she could protest that she wasn’t interested, he continued, “Did you lose a glove when you were visiting here?”

“I did, actually. Did you find one?”

“Yes, but I don’t have it here in the lost and found. It’s a long story. Look, we’re having a party here tomorrow night especially for single people on Valentine’s Day. Why don’t you come by then and I’ll have the glove here for you.”

“Sure,” Peggy said, having no intention of going. She would like her glove back, but the combination of his interrogation and a blind date on Valentine’s Day was not appealing.

“I don’t believe you,” he said. Bucky turned immediately to Angie and introduced himself. “Can you make sure she comes by here? I have a friend I’d like her to meet.”

“Sure,” Angie replied. “Sounds fun.”

Peggy sighed. Angie never gave up when it came to something that sounded “fun.” She supposed she was going out on Valentine’s Day after all.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky said before he walked away. “You’ll like him. He’s nothing like me.”

***

Steve tried to find a spot in the cafe where the music wasn’t so ear-splitting. He thought he had found one, but it was also possible he was just starting to suffer from hearing loss. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and felt the knitted glove there. He couldn’t believe that he had agreed to let Bucky introduce him to some strange woman, and on Valentine’s Day. And to top it all off, Bucky was running late to his own party.

Peggy was having fun at the Valentine’s Day party in spite of herself. It was too loud and too dark, but at least she was out doing something. They had been there about a half an hour, but she hadn’t seen the cafe manager from yesterday anywhere. That was fine with her. Angie had tried to get her to dance, but she had refused for now. Angie was doing some exaggerated dance moves in front of her, kicking high in the air.

Peggy took two steps back, laughing. But the heel of her boot didn’t land solidly; it slid out from under her, and she started to fall backwards. There must have been a slippery spot on the floor right where she had stepped. For a second, she felt sheer panic—there was no way to stop her fall. But then her head hit softly against someone’s chest, and two arms grabbed her elbows, helping her regain her balance.

“Oh,” she said as she turned around, one of the man’s arms still touching hers. She was about to explain, to apologize, but the words died on her lips, and she just stared at him.

He was about to apologize; he wasn’t sure what for, but it seemed like the right thing to do. But instead he just looked at her.

“Hi,” she said, still staring.

“Hi,” he said, staring back. After another moment, he let go of her arm and held out his hand. “I’m Steve,” he said. 

“Peggy,” she said, taking his hand. “I’m sorry about bumping into you. I took a step back, and I slipped on something, and— thank you for catching me.”

“Anytime,” he said without thinking. “I mean, I’m just glad you didn’t take a nasty fall. That’s no way to spend Valentine’s Day.”

“And when I agreed to come here I had been thinking that this was no way to spend Valentine’s Day,” she responded, gesturing at the party.

“Why’s that?” he asked. “The noise, what passes for dancing, or the general singles scene?”

“How about all three?”

He laughed. “So what brought you here, then?”

“My incorrigible friend,” Angie. Peggy said, gesturing towards Angie. “She’s the reason I fell into you. I thought she was about to kick me in the face.”

“What about you?”

“I also have an incorrigible friend, although he isn't even here after insisting that I meet him.”

For a while they made the usual small talk, where they were from and what they did. But the experience of talking to him was different, both more comfortable and more engaging. She found herself keenly interested in mundane facts about him and found herself asking numerous follow-up questions that usually wouldn’t have occurred to her. He seemed to be doing the same, absorbed in everything she said.

After a while, Peggy found herself wishing she could sit down and talk with him somewhere quieter. As if reading her mind, a moment later he asked if she’d like to go a few doors down to another cafe. Peggy agreed and went to check in with Angie, who was dancing on the other side of the cafe with some friends of hers. She wasn’t sure if they were new or old friends; with Angie you couldn’t tell.

Steve looked around anxiously when Peggy went to talk to her friend. Every moment he was talking to her he was afraid Bucky would show up with some woman in tow, inadvertently ruining things with the first woman he had been interested in as long as he could remember.

“Peggy took one last look around before picking up her things. “You know,” she said to Steve, “I was supposed to meet one of the employees here tonight. He has something of mine. But since I haven’t seen him all evening, I guess it’s ok to go.” 

“You don't mean Bucky?” he asked.

“Ah, I think his name was James. I was in here a year ago and lost a glove, and he—”

“You’re joking,” Steve said, unbelieving.

“No, why would I—”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the glove. “This glove?”

“Yes,” she said, shocked. “Why do you have it?”

“Bucky—James, that is—is an old friend of mine. I found the glove just outside the door a year ago. When no one claimed it, I asked if I could keep it, but I left a note in the lost and found. I felt sure that whoever it belonged to would want it back, with all the perfectly done color work, and what a pain it is to knit five fingers on double pointed needles.”

“You knit?”

“My mother taught me. I only really do socks for myself. But I know enough to know how much work and skill this took.”

“Thank you. Why did you take it home with you?”

He blushed. “I know it sounds silly, but there was just something I really liked about it.”

“That’s not silly,” she said, not sure what else to say. They looked at each other again for a moment. 

***

The other cafe was uncrowded and quiet, perfect for getting to know someone. They had been talking for a while when Peggy excused herself. She had no sooner left the table when Steve’s phone dinged. 

Where are you? Bucky texted. I want to introduce you to someone.

Too late, he wrote back, I already met her.

And?

We went somewhere quieter to talk. If this works out you can ride shotgun in my car anytime you want. 

They talked for hours, until the cafe started to shut down for the evening and and the remaining employees were giving them dirty looks.

“I suppose we’d better get going,” Steve said reluctantly. Although it was hours past when he usually went to sleep, he felt energized. “Can I walk you home?”

“That would be lovely,” Peggy smiled.

He helped her on with her coat, and she pulled the glove out of her purse and put it on. “It seems like I’m always missing a glove, even when I’ve got it back,” she said, holding up her other, bare hand and laughing.

“Well, maybe your luck’s about to change,” he said, giving her a significant look.

They hadn’t walked very far down the small town’s main street when Peggy reached for his hand. “You wouldn’t mind keeping my other hand warm for me, since I only have one glove, would you?”

“I’d be glad to do that even if you had all three of your gloves with you,” he answered. There was something so sincere about the way he said it that Peggy’s throat felt tight.

“Your hand’s warm,” she said, as his fingers wrapped around hers.

They walked through campus on the same route Peggy’s usual morning walk took her. As they passed the gazebo in the sketch Peggy had found, she noticed that there were a number of couples standing in it or nearby. And they were all in groups of two. “I wonder what’s going on over there,” she said, peering at the couples.

“It’s supposed to be one of the most romantic spots on campus. The tradition is that if you kiss someone here on midnight on Valentine’s Day, you’ll be with that person forever.”

Peggy had slowed her walk, trying to get a better look at the gazebo itself, which did look like a romantic little spot in the dark with the snow softly falling on it.

“I’ve always liked this part of campus,” Peggy said. “I even have a drawing of it that I found in some second-hand furniture I bought.”

“That’s funny,” Steve said, “I’ve sketched this part of campus dozens of times myself.” That’s when her words sank in. A second-hand piece of furniture with a sketch in it. He had misplaced one of his sketches of this part of campus, and he had wondered if it could have been in the dresser he had donated. It couldn’t possibly be his, could it?

Peggy hadn’t responded to his last comment. She was looking at the different couples talking in quiet groups of two around the gazebo. She wondered how many of them would stay together. Peggy wasn’t superstitious, but she still thought it must be a very sweet thing for someone to ask you to come there with you at midnight, more or less saying that they thought you were the one, that they hoped you would be together forever. And she thought she could see that look on some of their faces.

She turned her attention back to Steve, and saw a strange look on his face. He seemed thoughtful and agitated. “Did you buy that furniture at the thrift shop on Third Street? Was it a chest of drawers about this high?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “How do you know that?”

“It’s my sketch. I donated that dresser six months ago. I forgot to double check it before I did. I even went back to look, but someone had just bought it.”

She couldn’t believe the coincidence, especially on top of the fact that he had been holding onto her glove for the past year. “What’s your last name?” she asked.

“Rogers.”

“So your initials would be S.R.” Just like on the bottom of the sketch.

They were both momentarily stunned, going over the improbable sequence of events in their minds. Then they both spoke in quick succession.

“So you had my glove for a year, and I’ve had your drawing for the last six months,” she said.

“I went into the cafe right after you did, and you must have bought the dresser right before I got there,” he continued.

“And your friend wanted to introduce us tonight, but we met on our own,” she added. “Those are…a lot of coincidences.”

“It might make a person think that it’s more than coincidences, that it’s fate.”

“I don’t know if I believe in fate,” Peggy said. “Or I didn’t, anyway, up through today.” She wasn’t going to let herself get carried away. 

She tried to look at him just from the perspective of the last few hours, before they had discovered their bizarre connection. It would be easy in these circumstances to talk yourself into thinking that a person was meant for you. 

But it wasn’t just that, she thought, as she looked at him appraisingly. There was something different about him, and she felt something she hadn’t experienced before. From the moment she had bumped into him, he had seemed like an old friend.

“I like you,” she said, suddenly decided that she was not getting carried away. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

He smiled at her. “I like you too, Peggy,” he said sincerely.

They had been talking for so long, still standing by the gazebo, that they hadn’t realized it was almost midnight. The clock on the nearby bell tower started to strike. 

Steve put a hand nervously to the back of his neck, “Ah, Peggy, I hope this isn’t too forward of a thing to ask, and I usually wouldn’t even think of it with someone that I’ve only just met, but, I was wondering if it would be ok if I—”

She caught him off guard, going up on her tiptoes and pressing her lips to his. He was so surprised he just stood there, not responding. Self-conscious, she quickly pulled back away. 

“I hope that was ok. I just—” She didn’t say was sorry, because she wasn’t, even if she had misread the situation.

“It was ok,” he answered, “but I think we can do even better with practice.”

This time he leaned down to kiss her. She was surprised but recovered much more quickly than he had. His lips moved against hers, warm and soft. Her hands pressed gently into his chest, then slid up and around to back of his neck as if of their own accord. He rested his hands on her hips, barely touching her at first, but soon moving around to encircle her waist.

The clock had long since finished striking when they finally paused. 

“So would you like to go see your drawing?” she asked, innocently.

“Absolutely,” he answered.

“You don’t want it back do you?” she asked, as they started walking again. “I’ve grown rather attached to it.”

“No, not at all,” he replied, as his hand found hers. “But I hope you won’t mind if I visit it.”

“Mind?” she answered, smiling. “I insist upon it.”


End file.
